Lost
by RillaRC
Summary: Anastasia has left. Christian is devasted. How did he face this new situation in his life? How did he feel these five days they spent apart? Just trying to fill the gasp between the moment Ana left and the moment they met again.
1. Chapter 1 - Saturday

**A/N: In general, I miss Christian's POV in the books. In particular, I've missed this one the most. I think this was the turning point for him, when he understood that things with Anastasia were different. I feel kinda cheated that we never got to know what went through his mind! LOL. Incidentally… does anyone know if E.L James is planning to write some more Grey filling the gasps or from Christian's POV? I mean, like the last two scenes she added at the end of the third book. That would be cool. Anyway, back to topic: I decided to write myself a little about the five days Anastasia and Mr. Grey spent separated, so maybe like that I could find some 'peace of mind' :p There will be only one or two parts more. I hope you enjoy it :)**

**Saturday. **

"Ana, good bye. "

She doesn't even look at me as the elevator's doors close.

And like that, she's gone. She's left me. I have to gather all my strength not to run after her, not to call Taylor and tell him not to drive her anywhere. I dig my nails in my palms not to press the lift button and go down myself.

She's gone. She's left me.

I walk back to the big room, glancing at the piano. Only a few hours ago we were sitting there and she was resting her head on my shoulder. With tenderness, with, now I know… love. Love! How can she possibly love me? She doesn't know me! I have made things she would never approve, she would never understand. She can't love me! That's just wrong. I can't be loved, I don't deserve to be loved!

I couldn't bear to lose you. That's what I said. And still, I beat her like never before.

Why did I make it? Why? I knew it, from the first minute, that she wasn't for me. That she was the hearts and flowers kind. I should have never beaten her like that. But she had been so brave and strong all this time. I thought it would work. I never thought she would react like this. She told me she didn't want to leave me. In her dreams. And you never lie in your dreams, do you? But there she is, gone. She has just left me. Alone and pained.

I go to my study, I need to do something, anything, whatever that can take this void, this pain from my chest. I pick up the phone, I should make some calls, check again on the Leila problem… but all I want to do is call her. Hear her voice. I close my eyes tight and summon all my willing not to throw the damn cell against the wall.

I need a shower. I need to relax. I walk to my room, and the view of my bed paralyzes me. Empty. I've never slept with anyone, and I am used to my empty bed. That's how it's always been, I like it. My room, my space. But the thought that she won't be lying there beside me anymore makes me feel as if someone were taking all the air from my lungs. I stumble to the bathroom and undress myself, numb. I never thought I could feel like this. What's going on?

And then I see it. The little bag and the note.

"_This remind me of a happy time. Thank you. Ana"._

I grab it, surprised to see that my hands shake. Happy time was two days ago. "She's my girlfriend" I said. First time ever I used that word. My girlfriend. If it wasn't impossible, If I didn't know better, if I had any hope of having a heart, a soul, I would go as far as to think that I… that I… that I love her. But I don't. I can't. I just can not.

I get into the shower, angry with myself, angry with the world. Afraid. I hadn't felt like this since I was fifteen. The hot, scalding water, falls over me. I rub my skin frantically, upset, and then I place my hands on the wall, breathing hard. I've had her here as well. My forehead touches the cool surface and I feel the urge to let myself fall and hug myself in the floor, but I won't. Turning the water off, I step out the shower and my eyes rest one more on her note. Even her handwriting is lovely. I've been such an idiot! Guilt, regret, it all comes back to me with a vengeance, making me sick.

I dress myself and go to my study once more, forcing me to function, to regain some normally. I call Welch. My voice is clipped and harsh. Still no news. I hang up and think of Leila, lost and hurt somewhere, in the streets. This is what I do, this is what I'm good at: hurting people, breaking them. Anastasia has done the right thing. She should have left me the moment I offered to introduce her to my lifestyle. I should have been stronger and never pursue her.

The phone rings and takes me out of my dark thoughts. Anastasia? I see the ID of the caller and close my eyes tight, let the air leave my lungs slowly.

"Elena"

"Christian! Are you OK?"

Of course, she has noted immediately.

"It's over"

"Anastasia?" she asks tentatively.

"She just walked out on me"

Elena is silent for a few seconds. _Mrs Robinson_, she would say. Pain surges through me once more.

"I'm sorry. Maybe it was for the best" she adds, softly.

"Maybe"

"You'll get over it, you'll find a new one, you always do"

"Not this time" words are out of my mouth before I know it, even before I know my brain has formed then. Where did that come from?

"You want to meet and talk about it?"

Anastasia's reaction at my meeting with Elena since she was in Georgia comes unbidden to my mind.

"No. I need to… I need to work or something"

"Christian, you don't sound well. I'm here, you know that. Let me help you"

"Anyone can help me" I murmur. Except, maybe, Anastasia.

I close my eyes tight, I feel broken as Elena insists that we should meet and talk. I've never felt like this, I don't know what's happening to me. I need to recover my equilibrium.

"I got to go"

And with that, I hang up. I think I had never hang up on Elena before, but right now I can't take any advice from her. I know what she might tell me, and I don't want to hear it. I close my eyes tight again. Light fills the study, but everything around me is dark and cold. I dial a number.

"I need an appointment. Today. Now"

I know I sound kind of desperate as I run my hands through my hair. A surprised Flynn tells me we can meet in an hour.

Until then, I turn on my computer and reply to some emails I had pending.

**At John Flynn's.**

"I shouldn't have listened to her. She told me, that she hated it, the same way I hate being touched. But she also said she wouldn't left me"

I'm walking around the room, too nervous to sit down. John watches me impassively from his couch.

"Are you mad at her for not keeping up her word?" his British accent sounds calm and firm.

"Well, actually… she said that on her sleep"

As I hear myself I realize how stupid that sounds.

"You know you can't hold it against her, then. The things we think and feel sometimes go against our benefit and we have to take painful decisions that we really wouldn't want to take"

"I know"

I sound sulky and childlike but I couldn't care less. She said she wouldn't leave me!

"Why did you make it, then? Maybe deep down you wanted her to leave?"

"Why would I want to do that?" I sound angry again.

"Because you think you don't deserve her"

"And I don't" I agree grumpily.

"Why not?"

"Isn't it clear? I can't make her happy. I can't give her what she wants and she can't give me what I need"

_She told me so, and she was right._

"We'll go over you later, but regarding Anastasia, what do you think she wants?" He motions me to sit down and I finally do.

_Hearts and flowers._

"She deserves someone able to love her and treat her good"

"I didn't ask what she deserves. I asked what do you think she wants"

_She wanted me, but I blew it. _

"I don't know"

"I think you do know, Christian"

He presses me and I run my hands through my hair, exasperated.

"She said she loved me"

Even though I try to sound nonchalant, I don't succeed and my voice gives it away.

"And that frightens you"

I can't answer that. I'm not sure, I don't know. She has made me feel so many unexpected and intense and extreme emotions. Tenderness, happiness, worrying, anxiety, pleasure like never before, crazy expectations… I thought I was safe in my cocoon, in my Ivory tower, as she called it. Until she came. And then everything was colorful and I felt alive for the first time… ever.

But she has also hurt me like no one else before. Anastasia has that power on me. That's what she fails to understand: she has all the power. I lose my self control when I'm with her. Yes, maybe that scares me. Maybe I can't do it. Maybe a normal relationship is too demanding and I can't make it. Can I?

"Christian?"

I blurt all my thoughts out to him.

"I've gone to limits I never thought I would" I continue. "I have had a lot of first times with her. And I don't regret them. I would go to lengths for her that even I can't understand. Still, she asked for more. And she gave me hope I could have more too"

Now my voice sounds weak and longing.

"According to you, what's more?"

"A normal relationship. What normal couples do"

"So you weren't a normal couple? Because you sound like any other man in love"

In love? Elena said so too, but I don't believe it. But then, what is this that I feel?

"You know we weren't, you know my problem. I'm sick. I can't love anyone"

I look at him hard. He's my shrink, he knows this better than anyone.

"Don't you love your family?"

"Well, I don't practice sex with my family" I snap at him.

"Thanks god"

You think you're funny? He keeps going as I glare at him as if I wanted to rip off his head. But he's the only person in this world that I have never been able to intimidate. Which I guess makes sense, since he knows all my miseries.

"I've told you this numerous times, Christian. You're not sick. You have a way to cope through sex, that's all. As far as I know, you have never forced any woman to accept your ways, have you?"

"Of course not!"

"And as I have explained to you a few times now, your lifestyle is not even a psychiatric term anymore. So why couldn't you be a normal couple? Just because of the sex?"

"Because I need… I need control. I need to punish her… you know why"

I sound exasperated and impatient now. Where does he want to go with this? He already knows all this shit. It's the reason why I pay him a fortune.

"Do you need that more than you need Anastasia?"

I gaze at him. What? I think about it for a moment. All the vanilla sex we've had, and how gratifying it was. How much I love her laughter. The nights we've spent together, with me watching her sleep, with my arms around her, my nightmares at bay while we laid in bed together. The great moments in the playroom but also her witty mouth, her blue eyes, her way to defy me and how I even liked it. Feeling uneasy away from her, thinking that she had to escape from me, and hating that she had that need. Me going after her to Georgia, the gliding, the hope for… more. I do want more, too.

_Do I? Can I?_

"No"

"So maybe, you can compromise. Can't she tell you her limits, can't she stop you somehow when you go too far?"

I have never been too explicit with Flynn about my contracts with the submissives and the rules. That's part of my privacy, so I save the details for me. But he's right. She _did_ have a way to stop me. The fucking safe word! Why didn't she use it? I've been so wrapped on my own misery that I hadn't even thought of that!

"Yes, she did"

_Fuck!_

"Why didn't she use it?"

"I don't know"

My hands go to my hair once more. Damn you, Anastasia! And here we go again. This should be it, this should be the end. It's one of the rules: if you walk out that's it, it's over. But is not over. I want her back. I need her back. Do we have any future? I don't know, but I want to try.

"If you want her back, you should concentrate on that"

_Did I speak out loud?_

"It's what I've been trying to make you understand lately. We need to focus on the future instead of thinking of the past, and work our way to the place where you want to be"

"The stupid Solution-Focused Brief Therapy?"

He nods, ignoring my tone, and I doubt. Where do I want to be? Where do I want to go? To Anastasia. I feel miserable without her.

"For starters, I suggest you try and talk to her. Like any normal couple do when they have a problem"

Are we a couple? Yes, we are. We were. My girlfriend, I said.

"I doubt she wants to"

"There's only one way to know"

"I've never done this before. Women do what I want and that's t. I don't need to discuss anything with them"

I get up again. Can I do this? For Anastasia?

"Well, maybe it's time to change the modus operandi" He smiles at me, full of himself.

Yes, I can and I will.


	2. Chapter 2 - Sunday and Monday

**A/N: Just another chapter. Seems like they are finally going to be three ;) And after this, I will keep on going with 'Moments in time', although I have a couple more ideas for some short fics, so who knows. Sorry for the grammar or vocabulary mistakes :( Maybe I should search for a beta. I'll see how that works. Oh, and the flower shop does really exists, LOL. Don't you just love Google? ^^ And since we're on it: Happy New Year! From Spain, with love :)**

**Sunday.**

Just another day gone by. Or starting, as you prefer, since it is only 1 AM.

I enter the room upstairs as I take my shoes and socks off with one hand, undone my bow tie with the other. I just came back from a very boring, very dull, too long gala. The usual. I sit on the bed, Anastasia's bed, the bed where we laid together before she left me, but immediately I stand up, agitated. I watched the sunrise with her in my arms, not knowing if we could overcome what had just happened, realizing we couldn't. Not good memories.

I walk into the closet. I turn on the light inside and the lines of clothes I had bought for her aim straight to the soft, sharp, incisive pain that hasn't left my chest since yesterday. The one that touching my scars causes is nothing compared to this. And I thought there would be nothing worse than that. How wrong I was. That wasn't excruciating. This is.

I walk to the cocktail dress I had envision Anastasia in, to accompany me to the party. I caress it, and I'm so stupid as to actually smell it, as if she had really wore it and her scent would linger there. The silk is soft against my fingertips, but it can't compare to the silkiness of her pale skin. Not even close. From the inside pocket of my jacket, I reach for the little red box and open it. Diamonds form Cartier. Only the best for my girl. Yes, I've been so ridiculous as to take them with me. Some elegant, beautiful ear rings I bought for her to accompany the dress. Not as beautiful as my Ana, though. I wanted to see them in her lovely little ears. I wanted her in silk and diamonds and I wanted to show her off, to show everybody she was mine.

I place the ear rings in the box and my pocket again. I walk out of the closet, turning off the light behind me. The room is dark except for the Seattle lights behind the windows. My Ivory tower. My prison.

I walk to the bed, taking the jacket off. Maybe the pillow still smells of her. Of her hair…

_She's laying on the floor, my mother. She's not moving, and for the first time, I'm not a four years old kid by her side, afraid and alone. I am an adult, looking directly at her, standing on my feet, feeling nothing. I catch a movement out of the corner of my mind. Anastasia! She's opposite to me, looking at my mother as well, but she is crying. Ana… she looks up, to me, and her face reflects horror and pain. I am a monster, I know! But you… you can save me. Anastasia… I try to move, to walk toward her. The air surrounding me is heavy and it makes moving difficult. Ana… She shakes her head, steps back. Ana… Please. She cries harder and leaves, she leaves, I can't reach her, I can't run… Agony, painful agony… _

"Ana!"

I sit up in bed, bolting, my heartbeat quick and unsteady. Nightmares. Again. Like any other night Anastasia hasn't been by my side. It happened when she went to Georgia, and I have the confirmation now, in case I still had any doubt.

Disoriented, I realize I'm still in Anastasia's room. How did this happen? Since when do I go around falling asleep? And still on my tuxedo.

I sit down, my feet on the floor. I place my elbows on my knees and bury my face on my hands. After a while, I look at the clock. It's 4AM. Not surprise here. If I ever sleep past five, it's a miracle. I remember the day I arrived late to the meeting in Portland, when I slept at Ana's apartment. Slept like a baby until 7.30AM. The things she does to me… _Did_, I correct myself. I only want to sleep with her again. To have her with me, her back pressed to my chest, her round, lovely ass against my body. All of me surrounding her, claiming her. Mine.

I run my hand through my hair, rub my eyes and walk purposely to my own room. Not to sleep, though. Enough of that for today. I change into more comfortable clothes and head to my study.

The bag with the glider is in there. I promised myself that assembling it would be the first thing I'd do in the morning, since I know it will take time and I didn't have it yesterday. Seems like I'm going to start on it a little earlier than I thought. I sit on my desk and take it out the bag. Everything seems to be there: the air brake, the rudder, the horizontal stabilizer, the nose, the wing tip…

Happy time, the note says. I remember our flight, Ana's bright eyes when it ended, telling me that it was more. I can see her face so clearly that I feel as if she were right in front of me and I could touch her just by reaching out.

But she's not.

I concentrate on the pieces that are now scattered all over my desk. Dawn surprises me still assembling it and Taylor appears on the door, looking uncertain. I hate being interrupted.

"What?" I bark.

"Just wondering if you needed anything, sir"

I go back to the glider without even answering and he leaves, no saying a word either.

A couple of hours later I realize I haven't had any breakfast. Meals are sacred for me. I can always eat, hungry or not. I have never lost my appetite. Although today, this morning, is starting to look suspiciously as if I could. Almost midday and not hungry at all. Another first, Miss Steele.

I drag myself to the big room and try some music. Music always heals me, helps me. I pick up the remote and press the button. In the kitchen, I warm up on the microwave some omelet Mrs. Jones always leaves prepared for me, just in case. I seat on one of the stools as I wonder if Ana is eating. She eats way too little! Worry grips me. I'm sure she's not eating. She needs to be watched, she needs someone to take care of her. And I could be that guy. I want to be that guy. I don't want anyone else doing it.

For a brief moment, I contemplate that possibility. That she can really find someone else, that any other fucker takes care of her, hugs her, moves inside her, makes love to her. Caresses her skin, grabs her hair, bites her lips. I'm dying. This is what dying feels like.

I take a deep breath and massage my temples. Maybe I could write her an email. A short one. Just to make sure she is OK and eating. But then I remember she left the Blackberry and the Mac in here. There's no way I can contact her right now. Loneliness and isolation become bigger and heavier as I realize this. It feels as if I'm in the middle of an ocean and there's no land in sight. Fuck! I only want to know how she's doing! Maybe I should ask Taylor to go and check on her.

_Get a grip, Grey._ Don't ruin it even before trying to start it again. I know even I could go myself to check on her. As I know that I wouldn't stop there. It would a total disaster, I wouldn't be able to stay away from her the moment I saw her and try to convince her somehow to give me a second chance.

No. I have to find the moment. I have to make my way back to her slowly, patiently. She has already mocked me many times because of my 'stalker tendencies', but right now I don't think she would find them funny. I don't want to suffocate her, I don't want to impose myself on her. I don't do waiting, I don't do patient. But for her, I will. I have to.

I haven't been paying much attention to the music until "Embraceable you" starts to sound. I had planned to dance to it with Anastasia today. I had planned to warm up some lunch that we could eat quietly in here, assuming she would be tired after her trip to Georgia, last night's gala, and all the fucking we would have had in between and this morning. I wanted to give her a quiet Sunday evening, hopefully have some slow, gentle vanilla sex, so she could be relaxed and well rested for her first day at job tomorrow. And I wanted to dance with her to this song. To take her in my arms and smell her hair as we swirled around. To kiss her until she confessed to me, awake, what she had said in her sleep. That she wouldn't leave me, that she didn't want me to ever leave her.

But still, here I am, without her. I hate this!

Focus Grey. Just do what you have to do. I feel like such an idiot for feeling like this, for going around feeling bad for myself. I deserve this. I should just get over it or die trying to do so. I should just forget about her and let her go on with her life.

But I am selfish and I won't do that. Not without trying to win her back at least once.

**Monday.**

I stand by the windows of my office, where the glider is sitting proudly on a glass stand on my desk, so I can see it every time I want to remember Anastasia and me chasing the dawn. Not that I need much to remember her, anyway. I thought I would be safer here, unlike at home, where every place holds a memory and is a painful reminder of what I have lost.

But no such luck. Same problem at my office: everything reminds me of her as well. I've been all day glancing to the door like an idiot, to the place where she fell on her knees. I've been standing for minutes again and again by the couch where she sat when she came to interview me. _"Are you gay?" "Maybe you're just lucky" "You sound like a control freak". _I've been watching the paintings that caught her attention the moment she entered. The ordinary raised to extraordinary.

Hell, during the boring to death meeting I have had first thing in the morning, I have been reading on my BlackBerry all the emails we sent to each other. Going over hers until I had practically committed them to memory.

And I've been all day thinking about her first day at work. Did they treat her well? Is she comfortable? Does she like the place? Is the job everything she expected it to be? If everything goes well, I'll take care of that too. Yes, I'm on my way there. Overprotective? Yes. Do I have a right to make this? Ask me if I care.

Finally, I can't help myself anymore and decide to write her a note, send it with some flowers, see how she would react. If there is a reaction at all. Maybe it is too soon yet? To contact with her in any form, I mean. How much time should you let pass by before trying to win a woman back? Is there a protocol for this out there? Maybe in the Internet? Now I feel like I am the virgin. I have no idea, really no idea at all on how all this works.

This is stupid. So I take a paper and… realize I have no idea what to write. What can I possibly tell her? I'm obsessed with you. I can't sleep, I can hardly breath, this pain installed in my chest making me feel uneasy and lost every second of every minute of every hour. I don't know what you did to me, but I need you to fix it. I need you. Period. I don't know how this happened, but this is how I feel.

Since I can't tell her that, I settle for something more formal, and after several drafts I come up with:

_Congratulations on your first day at work._

_I hope it went well._

_And thank you for the glider. That was very thoughtful._

_It has pride of place on my desk._

_Christian _

I reach for the phone.

"Andrea, I need you to order two dozen long-stemmed, white roses from the best flower shop in the area and have someone come here to pick up a note. Everything has to be delivered today around seven at this address"

Two minutes later she knocks on my door. I hand her the note in a closed envelope and I know she is dying to know what this is all about, although I think she has her suspicions. I couldn't care less.

"The best roses they have in the shop" I punctuate.

"Of course Mr. Grey" she is about to turn and leave when I stop her.

"Actually, never mind. I'll do it"

She looks at me with such wide eyes that I think they're going to pop up. I narrow my eyes at her and she realizes my hand is in the air, waiting for her to give me back the note. She goes all red and starts to fumble.

"Sorry. Sorry, Mr. Grey. Of course"

"Well? Which shop?" I ask, irritated. I think I'm gone totally mad.

"I would go with 'Floral Masters', at 1st Avenue"

Floral Masters? Are you kidding me?

"Give the address to Taylor"

"Yes, sir" and with that she leaves.

Floral Masters. I snort. What the…?

Five minutes later, Taylor is driving me to the shop in question. I justify myself saying that this is important. That I can't let this in the hands of who knows who. That those need to be the best two dozen long-stemmed, white roses available. To impress her, to show her that I only want the best for her.

"Raindrop" Prelude, by Chopin, starts and fills the car. As I am driven through the streets of Seattle, watching the people without seeing them, my mind starts to drift once more.

Anastasia… I recreate in my mind the way her name sounds when I say it out loud, how it rolls off my tongue. Anastasia…


End file.
